Solstice Heat
by Illegal-Pharmacy
Summary: Fiona is not looking for love. She's looking for a place to forget everything. But when imprinting happens, it happens. / PaulxOc, 1 year after Breaking Dawn / T for Swearing
1. Prologue

And so my bad habit of multi-story developing continues...

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**Prologue**

Howling wolves. That's all I really remember that night. Their feral sounds reverberating off of the trees around me. I turn and stare out of my window. Moonlight pours through my thin curtains, illuminating the dark circles that trace my lower eye lids. I haven't been able to sleep since the incident. I close my eyes. A lone tear trickles down my cheek.

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R&R

.:Illegal-Pharmacy:.


	2. Chapter 1: Arrival

I actually quite like this story so hopefully I'll update consistently enough!

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**Chapter 1**

**Arrival**

I stare boredly out the window, my forehead pressed against the cold glass. The driver isn't that much of a talker. Neither am I. His radio is like a staccato piece, music weaving in and out of pure static. It is the only thing that prevents the taxi from being filled with awkward silence. My dull green eyes search for something, anything, outside, a street sign, a lamp post; literally, anything. But the light fog coupled with rain makes this an impossible task. I sigh, dejectedly, and slump into my seat further. The taxi driver glances at me for a moment in his mirror. He's about to say something but then decides not to. Good move. I hate talking to people, more so since… I shake my head, dark red locks swinging back and forth. _Don't think about it._ I tell myself firmly. _That is the reason why I am moving to La Push in the first place._ I scowl. Like I need a reminder why I left. The car jolts slightly and I glare at the driver. He smiles, apologetically.

"We're almost there." His gruff voice says, breaking our silent commute.

I nod stiffly and return to staring out the window.

The taxi pulls up to a small, weather stained pale yellow house. There is a small railed porch with a potted plant and a wicker couch. I crane my neck a little and see that the woods canvas the area on the three other sides. If I squint, I can just make out a few cliffs with angry waves crashing against them. At this point the fog has thinned out and the rain has become more of a drizzle. This does not stop me from hiking up my hood before climbing out of the car. The driver has already removed my two black suitcases from the car and put them on the porch's steps. I heave my grey carry-on and messenger bag out of the back seat. As I'm paying the taxi man, the front door opens and my aunt comes flying out.

"Fiona!" she cries as she hugs me tightly. I can barely breathe.

"Lo' Aunt Grace." I manage to choke out. The taxi man tips his hat before climbing back into his car and driving back down the dirt road.

"How are you dear? It's possibly divine to see you!" Aunt Grace continues to squeal as she finally releases me from her death grip. Aunt Grace was from my dad's side. Like mine, her eyes were green but with more sparkle. Her tanned hands linger on my shoulders as she continues.

"My, my you look just like your mother! The last time I saw you, you were only this tall!" I give a half-hearted smile as she beams at me.

"I'm so glad you're staying with us!" she says happily and proceeds to heave one of my bags up the steps. "Harry!" she calls, chocolate tresses flying all over the place, "Fiona is here!" I hear thundering steps and a man opens the door. He is tan like my aunt with dark cropped hair and matching goatee. His brown eyes are warm and he cracks a smile.

"Hello Fiona. I'm Harry, your uncle-in-law" he says, hand outstretched. I think for about a millisecond and then give it a good shake.

"Thanks for taking me in Uncle Harry." I reply.

"Nonsense!" Grace calls with my first suitcase halfway through the door. "We are delighted in having you here." She gives a might grunt, trying to get the back wheels over the threshold, fails and topples over. Uncle Harry chuckles at his wife's antics before going to help her out.

Ten minutes later, all of my possessions have been moved indoors, dragged up to the second story and shoved into my new room. It's a bit smaller than what I'm used to but I'll be able to manage. I've been situated in the part of the house where the roof slopes dramatically, ergo my ceiling follows suit. The wall is somewhere between cream and white. A twin sized mattress on top of a spring box is pushed right up against the opposite wall with the window with neutral cream and blue bedding. The adjacent wall (the taller one) has my in wall closet and a standing wrought iron mirror. The only other accessories are the white shag rug and the neutral blue bean bag, both on the dark oak floorboards.

"We weren't sure which colors you liked dear." Aunt Grace chirruped from the doorway. "We can go into town as soon as you—"

"It's fine Aunt Grace." I reply, a lump in my throat. "Really."

My aunt smiles and then proceeds down the steep staircase, throwing over her shoulder, "Be downstairs for dinner in half-an-hour!" I drag my bag and carry-on to the bed and plop down. The blue reminds me of the beaches back home. As the lump in my throat grows I can feel tears getting ready to spill. _No._ I say to myself and quickly wipe my eyes with my sleeve. _Don't think about it._ I promptly stand up and begin opening my luggage. Better get everything situated before I eat and crash.

Exhausted, I walk out of the bathroom and to my room. I throw my clothes on the floor before crashing face first into my new bed. After organizing everything, I proceeded downstairs to see if Aunt Grace needed help with making dinner. Making the spaghetti and meatballs was simple enough. The difficult part was dealing with Grace's motor-mouth. By the time they were halfway through with dinner, I almost strangled Grace. Almost. If Grace was dead then I would have to go back home. So I had put up with my aunt and escaped as soon as possible. I let out slow, even breaths. I was tired and ready to say lights out. Slowly my feet dragged across the fuzzy rug to turn the light off then crawled under the blankets. I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard it. Howls pierced the night sky and my eyes snapped wide open. I waited, tensely. But the night was silent once more. Were those real howls? Or was it a figment of my imagination? For yet another night, I didn't sleep at all.

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R&R as always!

.:Illegal-Pharmacy:.


	3. Chapter 2: Spitfire

I thought about it a while and although I'm personally not a fan of fast developing stories, I have a gut feeling this is what this is going to be...

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**Chapter 2**

**Spitfire**

"FIONA! BREAKFAST!" my aunt's off-key, sing-song voice called. I spit out my toothpaste and rinsed my mouth.

"Coming!" I called back. I finished washing my face and bolted down the stairs.

Though I couldn't stand her talking, Grace made up for it by her cooking. This morning was French toast, sunny-side eggs and ham. I wolfed it all down throwing a "Thanks aunt G!" over my shoulder as I ran back up to my room. The first day of school was always hectic for me, more so today since I would be transferring in mid year. Since I had arrived on a Friday afternoon, it gave me about two days to buy any school necessities and such to prepare myself for the reserve high school. I promptly stripped out of my pajamas and pulled on my black, stone washed jeans, dark purple v-neck and gray hooded sweatshirt, half zipped. I decided to wear my auburn hair down, which meant my straight locks stopped at my mid back, and my bangs parted to the side. After scrutinizing my freckles for a minute I decided that no touch ups were necessary and began shoving my notebooks, pens, pencils and laptop into my army green messenger bag. After giving my room a once over, I grabbed my iPhone and headphones and returned back downstairs.

As I walked through the halls of La Push High School all eyes are on me. Not surprising since (a) I am the new student and (b) I'm the closest thing to a red head in the entire school. Although I'm tanned, I'm probably also the whitest kid in the school too. I just ignore the stares, like always, and bob my head subtly to the beat of my music. After convincing Grace that I'm a big girl and can take care of myself, she drove away, leaving me with the task of finding the office. In about five minutes I locate said office and go in to talk to the receptionist. After making sure I wasn't some delinquent just released from a big city, I was handed a map of the school, my schedule, a stack of textbooks, and my locker number with lock combination. I pointedly thanked the woman and exited quickly, eager to dump the heavy books before first bell. As I wandered the hallways looking for locker 406, I heard someone approach me from behind.

"Hey red, you need help?" I turn to glare at the voice. Just because I'm small, doesn't mean I'm weak! My scathing gaze lands on an extremely tall, extremely buff boy who has short cropped, dark hair.

"I got it thanks." I say, and turn my head back around.

"Whoa, didn't mean anything by it. I just wondered if you needed help finding your locker" He says and places a hand on my shoulder. The sudden contact doubled with his abnormal heat makes me jump out of my skin, causing the books to scatter on the floor.

"Sorry!" He says and retracts his hand quickly. He begins to pick up all my books as I stand there frozen. _No…there's no way…_He has finished picking up my books and says, "Here, let me carry them for you. What locker are you again?" I say nothing, just staring at him. "Are you ok?" I finally snap out of it and blush uncomfortably.

"Uh, sorry…" I mutter. "I'm, um, locker 406?" It comes out as a question. After concluding I really am fine, the boy turns and begins walking. I just walk next to him awkwardly.

"400s huh? That means you must be a Junior." He rambles on. "My name is Seth Clearwater. I'm a sophomore. But I know some people in the junior class who will be more than happy to help you get situated."

"Uh, thanks Seth. I'm Fiona. Fiona Westgate."

He smiles, a boyish grin. "Nice to meet you, Fiona." I notice that students are whispering and glancing at us, majority girls. For some reason it bothers me, which has never really happened before—

"Here we are, locker 406!" Seth says happily, snapping my attention back to him.

"Thanks Seth." I say and quickly spin the lock and open my new locker.

"No problem" Seth replies as he dumps all my books in the waiting locker. I wait for him to leave before I start organizing but he lingers for just a little bit longer. "So, being new and such," I inwardly groan. I've been in the school for fifteen minutes and someone is already trying to hit on me. "Would you like to sit with me and my friends at lunch?" He finishes.

I blink, not what I was expecting. "Uh, yeah, sure." I say, and he grins again.

"Sweet! Well, then see you at lunch Fiona!" He calls and walks down the hallway. Make note that the stares and whispers increase from that point on.

"Class, as you know, we have a new student joining us today." My homeroom teacher, Mr. Giovanni, says as I shift uncomfortably in front of the junior class. There is about eighty or ninety students all staring at me. Most of the girls are glaring at me. "If you could introduce yourself dear." Mr. Giovanni says to me.

"Um, I'm Fiona Westgate," I say slowly. "I moved here from Los Angeles and I'm living with my aunt and uncle, Grace and Harry Pike."

Mr. Giovanni nods approvingly and says, "I expect you all to welcome Fiona warmly into our class. Kim?" A girl with long dark brown hair looks up from her book.

"Yes Mr. Giovanni?"

"Would you mind helping Fiona around today?"

She smiles, a smile too big for her face yet it suits her well. "I would be happy to."

Mr. Giovanni nods again then says to me, "you may sit in that empty desk by Kim today."

I nod and hike my bag up my arm as I proceed to the empty desk. People are still staring and whispering about me but by now I don't heed it any attention. When I sit down, Kim is waiting for me with a smile and a hand shake.

"I'm Kim." She says. I take it, gingerly at first, and give it a shake.

"Fiona." I simply say.

"Welcome to La Push Fiona." She says cheerily. _She would get along so well with Grace_, I think as Kim begins to explain my class to me.

"Let's see…It looks like we have a lot of classes together…AP English, Pre-Calculus, World History…You have gym with my boyfriend Jared and his friends…And it looks like you have science with them too…Oh we all have lunch B block together!" I nod as she continues to point out the classrooms on my map and circle them in red pen.

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Seems like Fiona knows something is up with Seth, huh? *waggles eyebrows*

Just a note; Kim and Fiona won't be best buddies. Yet. Maybe in the future? After Fiona gets acquainted with the rest of the guys.

Or would you like Fiona and Kim to become best friends? Leave a review of your opinion.

Or don't. I'll still keep writing.

.:Illegal-Pharmacy:.


	4. Chapter 3: Acquainted

This story has been published for a day and I already have 1 review! so happy!

I was going to wait for next week but I honestly can't contain it any longer.

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**Reviewing Reviews**

**JCreader:** Bffls with Leah?...I like it!

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**Chapter 3**

**Acquainted**

Safe to say that the first half of the day was pretty boring. AP English and the Pre-Calculus teachers were okay for the most part. Mr. Torques was one of those "If you can do my problems, the test will be a piece of cake" type teacher. My class in L.A. was slightly ahead of the English class here so I wasn't completely lost when Mrs. Nials was explaining "Is this a dagger I see before me?" and the World History Teacher was a little on the twitchy side. Mrs. Jeroff was a quiet, timid woman that barely raised her voice. Suffice to say, her class was mostly spent telling other students to "Shut the hell up" so I could actually hear the teacher. After writing down our World History homework, Kim grabbed me by the elbow and literally dragged me down the hallway right when the period bell rang.

"Lunch time is when it seems the school is actually alive." She explained

True to her word, students were actually moving with vigor as lunch was the main destination. We burst into the cafeteria, elbowing some students for a prime spot in the lunch line, and patiently waited for food to be unceremoniously piled onto our trays. Kim opted for the greener selection of foods (a.k.a salad, some V8 and saltine crackers) whilst the unhealthier side of the lunch menu occupied mine; steak-cut extra-salted fries, chicken nuggets, applesauce and a bottle of Sprite. As we paid for our respected meals, Kim eyed my tray warily but said nothing.

"So normally I sit over here with—"

"Sorry Kim, I promised—"

"HEY RED! OVER HERE!" a familiar voice called. Our heads weren't the only ones that whipped around. Possibly the entire female student body also turned to see a smiling Seth Clearwater waving his gigantic hand in the air.

A boy leaned out from behind Seth and shouted, "KIM!"

Kim and I had the opposite reactions. While Kim beamed and squealed, "JARED!" as she rushed over to the table, I blushed a red that could match my hair and slowly trudged towards the seemingly over crowded table.

Kim barely put her tray on the table before jumping into this "Jared's" lap. I rolled my eyes but was very cautious. All of Seth's friends were like him; incredibly built with short cropped hair and a model tan. I narrowed my eyes. They probably all have the same heat signature too. The whispers were back, more annoying than ever, perhaps because this time I actually tuned in to listen.

"Why is _she_ sitting with _them?_"

"Since when did they let _newbies_ sit at their table?"

"What does Seth see in _her _anyway?"

"I bet her hair isn't even naturally red. I can spot a dye job a mile away."

"Ugh, what a pig! Do you _see_ all those carbs?"

By the time I actually arrived at the table, the vein in my forehead was ready to explode. Seth looked at my agitated face in concern while the guys who weren't wolfing down food were grinning in amusement. At least some of us were having fun. Suddenly I slammed my tray on the table, whirled around and yelled, "IF YOU'VE GOT A FUCKING PROBLEM WITH ME SAY IT TO MY FACE!" My shill voice echoed for a moment before a deathly silence fell over the cafeteria. Seth's, Jared's and Kim's face were in shock while the rest of the guys were trying to hold their laughter in. I snorted and said, "Thought not." Before turning back around, sitting in an empty space and angrily consuming my fries. The bustling crowd complete with noise was back and Seth's friends exploded with laughter.

"Nice going, Spitfire!" one of the guys congratulated me as he pounded my back.

"Skanks need to learn when to shut up." I shrugged and started to chug my Sprite. Nameless boy howled with laughter again.

"That would be Colin." Seth introduced me. "Brady is on his right and Jared is over there." He said, pointing to the smooching couple. "Paul should be somewhere around the school, and some guys are on pa—" I heard Seth grunt and lifted an eyebrow. Seems like Brady had given Seth a good old kick under the table.

"I mean, uh, out sick today, uh, getting over a, um…" Seth tried to cover up unconvincingly. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Nothing I haven't heard before. But hey, I'm an outsider. I'm not supposed to know. Seth saw that I wasn't buying it and tried even harder.

"Seth, I get it, their sick." I said, sympathetically patting his arm. Colin and Brady guffawed as Seth flushed a bright red.

"AH, um, Yeah." He muttered before ducking his head down and starting on his burger.

The day continued on, equally mediocre but at least now I knew a few people around the school. It was clear that the lunch table I had been introduced to were a tight-knit group. They were like a band of brothers and sisters, a family, and although they had welcomed me with open arms they were also cautious of me. As I was of them. It was lucky that I had block art right after lunch because it allowed me to muse over what I should do next. Both Colin and Brady had caused a rowdy distraction at the beginning of the block for the art teacher which pretty much only gave us enough time for free-drawing. As the two boys painted their canvas, and each other when Madame Henry (yes she insisted we called her as such) wasn't looking, I let the charcoal stub in my hand flow freely on the page.

"Does anyone know where Mr. Lahote is?" Madame Henry's clipped voice said loudly. She looked pointedly at Colin and Brady, who immediately stopped their paint war.

"I think I saw him head towards the infirmary after lunch, Madame!" Someone from the back of the room hollered.

Madame continued to stare at the boys who were starting to squirm a bit. "I see." Was all she said and scribbled something down in her attendance book.

I returned my attention back to my charcoal piece and went back to auto-pilot as I tried to figure out more about La Push and its inhabitants. The period continued on without further incident until near the end of the period when I felt two warm presences behind me.

"That's pretty good, Spitfire." Colin said, making me jump a little in my seat. I turned to see that Brady was also looking at my picture, dramatically squinting one eye shut and using his two hands as a make-shift picture frame at different angles.

"Yeah. It looks so life-like…Is he a friend of yours?" Brady said, still squinting.

"A friend?" I said stupidly. As I said I was on auto-pilot and didn't really pay attention to whatever it was I had created.

"Well he certainly isn't a celebrity because Brady and I would be able to place those distinct features." Colin said shrugging and pointed.

I turned around slowly, a little afraid of what I was going to see. On the newsprint page I had brought an Adonis to life. Dark, harsh lines promoted the strong jaw, contoured neck muscles, and prominent nose. Soft shading further emphasized the muscles of the arms and chest as well as the full lips. I had done a ¾ portrait of a man whose eyes commanded authority, even on a simple page and whose face was framed with soft waves of medium length hair. I inhaled sharply and felt the color drain from my face. My body began to tremble slightly. I had drawn Devin.

"You okay, Fiona?" Colin said warily. I realize that he, Brady and I are the only ones left in the art studio and soon it would be time from gym class. I growl, reaching my arm up and rip the page from the easel I had worked on. The boys watch me, stunned, as I rip up the portrait into four or five pieces before crumpling them up, muttering obscenities under my breath, and throwing them away.

"I'm fine" my voice says harshly as I grab my bag and leave the room.

"Who was that drawing of, Fi?" Brady says trying to catch my arm in the doorway but I avoid his grasp.

"No one" I say as I turn sharply and run towards the gym.

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Who is this Devin?

Why is Fiona upset?

Why do I have a craving for toast and jam?

R&R as always

.:Illegal-Pharamacy:.


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